|  Author | Topic: Drills [For All Dark Arts Defense Students] (Read 383 times) |
Dodger Hammond
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|  | Drills [For All Dark Arts Defense Students]
« Thread Started on Oct 6, 2007, 1:50am » | ![[Quote]](http://s4.images.proboards.com/buttons/quote.gif) |
[October 5th]
After almost an hour of his Dark Arts class, Dodger could imagine, fairly well, what it was like to be a sewing needle, constantly weaving in and out, back and forth, over and under the fabric your operator was directing you through.
He felt rather like a car on a test run, weaving and swerving back and forth through an endless sea of orange guard cones. Dodger was a good wizard, and he knew it, but apparating had never come easy for him. He didn't fancy it as a normal mode of travel, and whilst some of his thicker-blooded friends blamed his muggle upbringing for it, Dodger didn't see his slight inability to blink in and out of this plane of existence any hindrance.
Dodger closed his eyes and disappeared from a marker before landing in another one in the clearing, about twenty-five feet away, his foot a little off of the magically-drawn wispy white circle he was supposed to be completely closed into. The circle had a diameter of about three feet, and it appeared to be made of the same silver mist of a Patronus. An inch or so of his sneaker was over the marker.
Dodger's eyes fell closed again, and he waited for it.
...
"HAMMOND!"
Yep. That train was never late.
Dodger cracked one eye open hesitantly and met the ultra-disapproving gaze of his Defense professor.
"Hammond," Professor Optimus said, his voice calm and steady although his glare could've killed a basilisk, "do you know how long I've been out here?"
"Forty-seven minutes and twelve seconds," Dodger replied, opening his other eye although he wanted nothing more than to avoid Optimus's scathing gaze.
"Wrong," Optimus snapped promptly. "I've been out here three hours, forty-seven minutes, and sixteen seconds. Precisely ten thousand and eight hundred of those seconds were spent summoning up carefully triangulated, parallel, perpendicular markers for my college-level students--all of whom should be fairly sufficient in the skill of simple apparation--to land in." Optimus paused. "To land inside of. Stop me if I'm going too quickly for you to comprehend, Hammond."
"No, sir," Dodger said, wishing the perfectly-geographed circle he not-so-perfectly landed inside of would swallow him whole.
"So, given the ten thousand, eight hundred seconds I spent drawing these circles and the now two thousand, eight hundred and eighty-seven seconds you and the rest of my class have spent utilizing for training purposes, why have you so artfully decided to miss the mark?"
Dodger knew, whilst his brain was summoning up enough neurons to respond semi-intelligently, that any statement he could make right now would be a mistake. His mind actually red-flagged the idea of breathing too loudly, let alone trying to speak to his teacher to justify him missing his mark.
Unfortunately, his traitorous mouth decided to disconnect its nerves from his brain, cutting off the intelligent formation of words.
"I'm tired, sir."
The silence was so palpable that even a sloppily clast Diffindo could've sliced it in half. Dodger found enough courage to look up, even knowing the mistake he'd just made.
"You're tired," Optimus deadpanned, eyebrows hitting his hairline. Dodger prayed that justice for his stupid response and his mistake would be delivered swiftly, but he knew his luck wasn't that good. Even the power of prayer was no match for Obsidio Optimus.
"Ah," Optimus continued, looking away from Dodger and folding his arms over his chest. His eyes scanned the expanse of the clearing, where his students stood inside and outside various markers. He examined them with the same fascination that a spider examines a fly caught in its web. "For those of you whose audio skills are lacking like Hammond's apparating skills are, I shall repeat the statement. Dodger Hammond excuses his faulty calculating in apparating due to the fact that he's tired."
There was another piercing silence as Optimus's lips upturned in an amused little smile. Dodger felt rather than saw the eyes of his friends and classmates staring him down.
"It's been a long while since I was in school," Optimus said, his voice deceptively amiable, "and I know that many of you have other things on your minds right now. Your various boyfriends and girlfriends, your schoolwork, the Harvest Festival taking place in Antoinette. I know that you are all quite exhausted from the taxing lives that all college students live." Optimus chuckled, and then, quick as a lightning bolt, snapped, "Wake up!"
Dodger and the rest of the students all flinched. Optimus did not often raise his voice. His soft-spoken, silver-tongued acidic remarks and comments were equally as effective as Sutler's constant shouting--more so, because Optimus was scarier than Sutler, hands and wands down, but Optimus roused into raising his voice was like watching a thunderstorm from a lighthouse.
"If Audric Celeres cannot convey the urgency of the situation to his students, then I can't possibly hope to force my way inside of your thick skulls to tell you that these are the most dangerous times this island has ever faced!" Optimus was moving from student to student slowly, meeting their eyes and singling none out. "Your lives are at risk, the lives of your friends and family here. Perhaps you are all too coddled from living in America in the midst of the war, but the Hunt is a simultaneous freelance slaughter of humans that will systematically occur in every place that houses vampires! There are things worse than death that one faces when dealing with vampires. Rape," Optimus spat, glaring at KT Takahashi, "attacks on those whom you bestow your affections upon if you cross them." His eyes shifted to Rowland. "The loss of your own magical abilities." The list went on, and Optimus's eyes traced every student in his class, from Eric to Caden to Steven.
"This is not a game," Optimus said finally, his voice back under control. "Our lives and the security of our school and homes are on the line. And we shall stay out here, regardless of weather or time of day until Hammond here lands in every single marker in this clearing perfectly no less than twenty five times starting now." Optimus clapped his hands and the students began to appear and disappear at random again.
Dodger, however, didn't move, and Optimus was approaching him. "And Hammond, if I see so much as one more shoelace outside of the circles I've drawn, I will fail you for the week and give you so much homework that you'll be older than Nicholas Flamel before you finish it all. Now do it again."
Optimus clapped his hands as if to signal Dodger, but the boy didn't need a crystal ball to know when to disappear. He disappeared and reappeared again in a circle fifty feet away, this time perfectly.
"I hate him," he muttered when Sean popped into view five feet away from him.
"No, you don't," Sean conceded kindly before disappearing.
"It's not that I hate him," Dodger continued, eyes firmly on Optimus, "it's just that it's always me he's messing with." Eric tossed him a sympathetic look from a circle in front of Dodger.
"You know how important accuracy is, though, Dodger." Rowland's voice sounded from a circle two paces behind him. "More importantly, you know how Optimus is."
"I wasn't surprised," Dodger snapped, "just...overwhelmed." Dodger closed his eyes and apparated to the other side of the clearing where Sean was standing, waiting for a free circle.
"The Hunt is serious business," Sean was telling a girl in a circle parallel of his. "We don't have them really bad in San Fransisco, but I know people who've lost family to vampire attacks. They're vicious, and apparating is the quickest way to get yourself out of their clutches. They're so fast."
Sean was gone, and Dodger followed him to the center of the clearing, where Row was standing.
"This is not kiss-chase, Hammond!" Optimus yelled from somewhere to Dodger's leeward side. "Stop following your friends!"
"He hates me," Dodger whined. "Why is it always me?"
Row snorted and disapparated.
Even for Optimus, the treatment today was a little rough. Of course, Optimus's class was never exactly a tiptoe through the tulips. He was an in-your-face professor quick to insult you for an error, but just as quick to congratulate you for a job well done.
Still, he was being harsh. Dodger knew it was a very serious situation, but honestly...was there something more going on in his professor's head other than keeping his students safe?
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Eric Pearson
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| | Re: Drills [For All Dark Arts Defense Students]
« Reply #1 on Oct 6, 2007, 11:03am » | |
If there was one thing Eric hated more than anything else...well maybe not anything...but most things, it was entering into the woods for any reason. And it certainly didn't help that their instructor was in such a bad mood; honestly, he wouldn't have been surprised to find them one student short when they returned the safety of the grounds.
And today it looked as if the sacrifice to Optimus's temper would be Dodger. Eric cringed, knowing secretly that had Dodger and Row not been pulling him through this program he would have had no chance of surviving even the easiest of classes, not in the Auror program anyway, he'd always been more of a potions guy himself. To stand by and watch as Dodger got the crap beat out of him by their professor (verbally of course), made Eric feel like shit. Unfortunately he'd never been the one to run to the aid, not when the predator scared the fuck out of him, anyway.
As he popped in and out of the course's obstacles he found himself becoming more and more tired by the moment. Dodger hadn't been lying, it may not have made Optimus happy, but these stupid practicals always took everything out of him. What good could they possibly serve in the future? Unless of course their evil wizard was at the end of one of Optimus's obstacle courses.
Ducking and weaving as he popped in and out of existence Eric attempted to focus, as to avoid becoming the next scapegoat. But, as it was Eric...
"Pearson! You're no better than Hammond!"
Eric's mind swam and he looked around at his feet all of which were inside of the hazy circle, Optimus must have seen the bewildered look, or perhaps just wanted to point out his flaws to the entire class, because moments later he exploded.
"YOU'RE SLOW, PEARSON. Stop looking at your feet! And I suppose you're just "tired" as well?"
Every muscle in Eric's body tensed to the point where he felt like if anyone were to touch him now he would fall over, stiff as a board. The lack of response, however, had not been what Optimus had been aiming for.
Optimus turned to the rest of the class, all of which had gathered behind him so they could learn from other's mistakes. "Myst, how many hours have you spent at the gym this week?"
Caden smirked, "23, sir." Eric's eye flicked upward just long enough to take in the harsh, yet ecstatic visage of Caden before he returned to studying his shoelaces. (Note to self: tattered, need new ones)
He was just about decide on the quality of his new laces when the sound of his name being called brought him back to the present.
“What about you, Pearson? Pearson! What about you? Hours.”
He could have died; he had only gone that one time with Row. "Four,” he muttered, almost silently.
“Speak up, Pearson! Now. I don’t have all day.”
“Four, sir.”
“Four? Four! Ok, let make myself perfectly clear.” Optimus looked like he was going to spit nails, “If any of you – Pearson – are not willing to put in the work, then he or she should leave. This program in itself is dangerous. The jobs it leads to are dangerous. If you aren’t willing to take it seriously, then I suggest you leave now, before you get either yourself or someone else killed!”
What was with the Professor today? Sure he had screwed up but was it really this serious? I mean, sure he forgot to go to the gym, but what did Optimus want? Their ENTIRE LIVES? I mean honestly, this was just college.
“Wake up, Pearson!” Eric moved his eyes onto his raging professor and, at that exact moment felt the distinct need to yawn. Refusing to open his mouth, he just barely allowed his jaw to drop, but none the less his face stretched itself into an awkward position. “Wake up or change majors and sleep. Go. Now. All of you, I want this drill to be the epitome of perfection from each and every one of you. And we aren’t quitting until it is.”
There were pops all around him and Eric followed, begrudgingly. What would he ever use this for? Nowhere else would he need to apparate through all this stuff. It would be so much simpler if Optimus was a bit more practical, after all they could just apparate from the first circle to the last and skip all the ridiculous in betweens.
"This is not kiss-chase, Hammond!" Optimus yelled from somewhere. "Stop following your friends!"
Poor Dodge, Optimus was coming down on him hard today. Ya sure, Eric didn’t think it was fair to point out his every flaw, but at least to him this was just a class. Dodger felt like Optimus somehow had control over his success in life, and if Optimus didn’t approve he’d be hopeless. But it really wasn’t fair how much Dodger got called out for the stupidest of mistakes. I mean being off the mark by what…3 centimeters?...had gotten him chewed out.
Eric just couldn’t understand the logic; in his mind Optimus had favourites, sort of. At least there were those students he focused on and there were others he ignored to a point. For instance, had Eric been off the mark, chances are Optimus wouldn’t have commented. After all, Eric was often off the mark and even more often screwing something else up as well. But Optimus had his focus set on a few students, and Dodger and Row had to be his top two. Well, Caden as well, but he was more concerned about controlling Caden than picking out his flaws…
Not that he has any flaws… Eric added mentally to himself.
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Rowland Townsend
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| | Re: Drills [For All Dark Arts Defense Students]
« Reply #2 on Oct 6, 2007, 3:39pm » | |
Firecrackers. That was the sound filling the clearing. Or rapid fire from a semi-automatic hand gun. The constant pops and cracks reverberated off the trees disorienting Rowland. It was hard to tell if that most recent apparation came from behind him or to his left. There was also the fact that all of the DAD student’s were squeezed into the clearing. Seniors were blinking in and out of existence with speed unfathomable. Peter was a blur of orange. And somehow his pops were never as loud as his own. More and more he heard Peter’s distinct laughter rather thing his disapparations.
Rowland shot from a circle and landed in a triangular one on the other side of the clearing. His landing was solid, both feet placed firmly on the ground. The only thing was that the ground was firm on its location. It shifted, rising up three feet and tilting to the right.
“Fuck!” He jumped from the triangle and into a more stable square.
The course in the clearing was every changing. Areas rose and sank, tilted or became covered in rocks instead of cushioning grass. As if navigating about three dozen moving bodies wasn’t difficult enough. Rowland was waiting for somebody to splinch. And it’d be a nasty one too, with parts going in several directions instead of the typical two ways.
“Hammond!”
Rowland moved as though it had been his name to get called. Optimus had the ability to scold one student and make it feel as though he was singling each and every student out. He understood the importance of fast and accurate apparation, especially when the vampire threat was added to the equation. But shouldn’t the entire school be doing these drills? Wasn’t this great practice and knowledge for all students? Rowland looked to Optimus who was already glaring at him. He had been stationary too long, Rowland disappeared and found himself in a square a marker off from Dodger.
“The Nazis could have learned a thing or two from Optimus.”
Dodger snorted and was gone from sight.
A rectangle opened up and Rowland went for it. His feet stuck the landing but a blow to his chest almost knocked him out of the marker. Another person had chosen this exact target to appear in. It was a first year Auror, a girl. Rowland wasn’t sure of her name but that didn’t stop him from grabbing her and pulling her small frame to his chest. The span of his chest was enough to block her from Optimus’s view.
“Go somewhere,” he said into her ear. “Now!”
She vanished from his arms and he glanced over his shoulder for their professor. He was busy with Eric, shouting about gym hours. Rowland knew the other boy hadn’t even been the minimal amount of ten hours. Eric disappeared and landed next to Rowland.
“The man’s out for blood!”
“Only four hours, Eric?”
“I don’t need to get chewed out by you, too,” he snapped.
“Townsend! Come here!”
“Well, now it’s mine turn.” Rowland rolled his eyes and apparated to Optimus who glared at him. “Sir?”
“You’re roommate has only been to the gym for four hours this week. Is the same for you, Townsend?”
“No, sir. I’ve been a total of twenty-six hours. You can check the log books—”
“And you never once thought to bring your roommate with you?” Optimus’s voice was sharp and condemning.
Rowland blinked, “Umm…”
“’Umm’ is not an answer, Townsend! ‘Umm’ will not save you or your loved ones.”
“Yes, sir. I know, sir. But—”
“But what?”
“I don’t know, sir.” Rowland broke his eye contact with the teacher and looked down.
“Well, I suggest you figure that out because ignorance should not be your downfall, Townsend.”
“It won’t be, sir,” he assured the older man, looking back up.
“Neither should girlfriends.”
His dark eyes flickered away for a second. It had been a previous topic of theirs. A topic he had once disagreed with but no longer did. “She’s not a problem, sir. And she never will be.”
“That’s what I want to hear, now go.”
Rowland turned and was gone, finding himself in a circle diagonal from the triangle Caden was occupying.
“It’s so nice to see that you and your friends do everything together. Even fail at simple drills,” he sneered.
“I was being praised. I’ve been to the gym twenty-six hours this week.” He gave the older student a lopsided smile and disapparated.
He appeared next to Dodger again. “Something’s wrong. I don’t think Optimus has told us everything.”
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Caden Alexander Myst
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| | Re: Drills [For All Dark Arts Defense Students]
« Reply #3 on Oct 6, 2007, 10:44pm » | |
Having popped into existence just next to Rowland, an act that was, without a doubt, completely accidental, Caden took advantage of his momentary "stroke of luck."
He was used to the terrain by now. After all he was ow on his forth and final year of running, jumping, diving, and fighting his way through Optimus's mind boggling mazes and unexpected, unreasonable requests. Optimus pushed his students to the limit. Caden, Daniel and Rachel were the only three students to see the program through to their senior year. And Caden Myst was the only one not interested in the jobs they would be offered after graduation. He would be using his skills in a more, well, practical manner.
A fact that had not escaped Optimus's knowledge for long. It was also the fact that had resulted in the careful eye Optimus now kept on him. It had been no use trying to win Optimus's approval after that. He was smarter than that. Caden Myst had managed to slip through the University without making too many permanent waves. Yes, he was an overly common part of rumors...but he had never once been caught. A few teacher's harbored suspicions about him, but few acted on it. After all, every day in class he proved himself to be an exceptional student; bright, gifted even. One of the last people you'd ever expect to be involved in the type of things suggested in those "vicious" rumors.
No, Caden Myst spent too much of his time studying to be caught wandering around Oxbay at night starting brawls.
Looking up at his companion Rowland, Caden spoke, “It’s so nice to see that you and your friends do everything together. Even fail at simple drills." He was sneering.
“I was being praised. I’ve been to the gym twenty-six hours this week.”
He didn't allow his face to show it but secretly he was disappointed. He had felt sure he had outworked him this week, Rowland must have snuck in a few extra hours this mourning. The bastard. But before Caden had even looked away Rowland had disappeared.
Having stayed still a little longer than necessary he popped to the nearest triangle of light. The instant his feet touched it, however, the shimmering light disappeared, along with all other sources of light. A magical darkness surrounded him as high pitched laughter began, echoing off what sounded like walls. He steadied his feet on the earth beneath him, tried to would have been better language as the earth was gone, replaced by hard stone that didn't seem to want to stay balanced. Loose stone, musky smell, dark and echoes. Cave? Possibly man made; definitely man watched.
Now to pin down to laughter. Definitely a dark creature, nothing less than the most difficult for Optimus's most advanced students. Immediately his mind scrolled down through his mental list as he cast a night vision spell silently. Best to know what he was dealing with before announcing his presence with a streak of light. If the creature needed to be outsmarted his anonymity would be a blessing.
Well, it couldn't be a banshee they didn't laugh like this, if they did though, this being would be their young. But no, banshee's screamed. His sinister grin began pulling back at the corners of his mouth, he had recently learned, Kira was afraid of that scream. But another bout of laughter wiped the grin from his face; he had a task to complete.
Looking around he kept mentally crossing off possibilities. With the site of the unsteady rocks all around him he crossed out all possibilities between Z and K (it usually faster to move backwards as many of the more dangerous creatures had more...exotic names), he turned slowly, pivoting so as to not disturb the unstable terrain around him. But, something was wrong, he couldn't actually see the creatures, which meant one of two things, hiding or invisible. Hopefully the former. As he took his first step it hit him, Erklings. It had to be, the laughter fit perfectly, and they loved to hide, to bring their pray to them. They were small and elf-like, all but the teeth. That was the point of the laughter. It entranced children and drew them towards the hiding predator.
No wonder Optimus had chosen them, they were nowhere near common, the Germans had begun regulating their breeding once they found them out. Unfortunately, he couldn't remember how the hell they had caught the stupid pests. It couldn't have been something too obvious, so, with a curt wave of his wand and a silent spell he sent five glowing orbs of fire to suspend themselves above his head, illuminating the cave. The laughter stopped briefly before resuming louder than before.
"I'm not a child, Erkling. You're going to have to come to me." Caden growled at his invisible foe. He kicked a fairly small rock into the far corner of the cave. A scuffle and one thick, bald head later the small creature rolled out, still laughing maniacally. Caden could have laughed. He could barely feel the slight pull of the creature's magical lure but it was blocked in a blink of his satirical eye. Weakness. Caden loved the smell of it.
In seconds he decided what he wanted to do. Optimus would call it unnecessary and show-offish, but Caden liked the challenge of hand to hand combat..or to be more specific, hand to paw.
The transformation was as quick as he ever and after a few moments of indecisiveness his form had been reshaped into that of his large wolf counterpart. The laughter stopped as the creature, confused, no longer sensed human presence. The hair running up and down his spine stood on end, quivering with each bloodthirsty growl.
It was a wonder Caden Myst was not a werewolf. He certainly acted like it. He found it freeing, incredibly freeing. Free to growl. Free to hunt. Free to draw blood. This overbearing animal instinct took him over every time he transformed. His sardonic grin looked perfectly at home for the first time ever as it slithered it's way across his wolfish mug. He was out for blood, blood and a satisfaction that only came from hunting...real hunting.
Side stepping, the rocks now silent under under his padded paws, he crept around, encircling the creature; growling incessantly, he lapped up the fear that filled the small creature's eyes. It had not expected this. No. Nor would it expect it's death, it would pray for it.
In a few short, swift movements, all blending seamlessly into one another, the small creature was pinned against a rock, whimpering pathetically, Caden's clawed paw puncturing small holes into it's body where the nails ended. He nuzzled it's tender neck with his nose, enjoying every minute of watching the creature that could easily kill a grown man pale under his gaze.
Backing up he removed his paw and let the creature choose it's own fate. It was frozen with fear. What a shame, he would have liked a little spirit. He paced back and forth across the loose rock floor before finally giving in and returning to its side. Fine. It didn't need to run. He could have just as much fun with it right there.
He traced a single nail over the pale skin of the creature's neck. Blood bubbled out from the wound and the creature squirmed and made to run. Caden let it go. After all, there was nowhere for it to hide. That was the beauty of Optimus's "tests" there was no way out, not without apparition.
When the creature was once again out of sight Caden begin circling his den. This was his terrain. His.
The scampering and scrambling resumed as loose rock were disturbed. He howled, shaking the cave itself. He was more than a predator, he was God. His wolfish eyes widened with the realization of his ever growing status.
Using his keen sense of smell finding the creature was not exactly a challenge. And even less capturing it, with it's short legs, and tiny size it had no chance whatsoever.
But that was the last game of cat and mouse he was willing to play. After capturing it again he tore it limb from limb; but slowly, enjoying every minute, every small sound made by the creature as it lived through it's own disembodiment. The guts were first. As long as he avoided major organs he could keep his tiny friend alive for longer. Next he acted on a whim, getting greedy he picked the torn creature up in his jaws hard, growling and shaking his enormous head back and forth before releasing him and watching, jaw bloodied, as the tiny figure hit the wall.
Sliding over swiftly he looked down at the half conscience being; yes, it lived. He started with the extremities and worked his way in. Luckily the thing stayed alive until the end. No, not till Caden mercifully ripped it's heart from it chest was it finished.
Backing away he shook his coat out, very satisfied with his improvisational skills, he transformed, back to his human form, wiped the bloody remnants off his lips and chin withe the bottom, inside trail of his robe.
After all, one never went into civilized society with blood on his sleeve.
The smirk he was so used used to crept across his face yet again, but this time it looked at home, quite perfectly at home.
With a pop Caden had arrived back in the woods, the figure of a furious Optimus approaching him as he licked his pink lips.
Yes, he thought, it was definitely worth it.
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Professor Optimus
Celerum Staff
Dark Arts Defense
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| | Re: Drills [For All Dark Arts Defense Students]
« Reply #4 on Oct 7, 2007, 2:06am » | |
It was nothing more than an almost whimsical motion of his hands, in plain view of the students running the drill, that sent Professor Optimus's apparation zones shifting. The hoops slowly bent into squares, rectangles, and triangles. They lifted off of the ground and tilted at different degrees of angles to throw the students off, and with another snap of his fingers, the special apparating zones selected for his senior students activated, and Myst disappeared with a flare of green light akin to Floo powder flames that sent his students stumbling even more.
"Pay no attention to him!" he snapped, feeling irritation lick at his senses like the flames of an inferno. "We cannot always control time, and if you are distracted for even a single instant, it could give your enemy an advantage. Continue!"
The students eyed him with a curious mixture of fear and subtle annoyance before the drill continued. Optimus watched Hammond slip out of a hoop that had taken form of a triangle, but he disapparated so fast that he avoided his professor's gaze.
Smart boy.
Sean Hall, Hammond's roommate who was a second-rate mage if he ever saw one and completely unfit for his ambitions, managed to apparate into the same hoop with a red-headed senior student who was flitting in and out of existence as fast as vampires would ever move. The senior, Peter Brockton, managed to right both of them before winking and going on another spit-fire round of apparating and disapparating.
Optimus frowned. There was something about Brockton that seemed almost supernatural at times. He was one of his strongest students (as a matter of fact, Optimus had decided to duel Brockton himself in his final exam as a test of the boys extraordinary strength) and he never made much noise in his class, but completed every assignment and practical as though this were his millionth time taking Optimus's classes. He had a kind of impish nature to him, and a demeanor better fit a troublesome Cornish Pixie than a senior-level Celerum student.
In a flash of green light, Brockton disappeared as well, off to another area of the island. If he remembered correctly, he'd activated Myst's special training area in a deserted cave hidden deep in the Soleil Peaks. Brockton was probably roaming around Diaboli Swamp right about now, given the fact that his easy-going ways with all manner of magical fauna would've ruled out deeper parts of the woods and made his task too simple.
Hall, however, started at Brockton's flash of green as he disappeared, and tripped over again.
Optimus opened his mouth, regretting what he was going to say. "Hall!" He waited until Hall's eyes were wide and fearful. "It seems to me that if you are prone to random fits of epilepsy, you should've said so on your registration form for my class. That is now the third time that you've stumbled outside of the boundaries. Do not make me regret allowing a wizard of your mediocre skill into my class, Hall!"
"No, sir--yes, sir," Hall mumbled before snapping out of sight again.
Optimus sighed as he tried to get a hold of himself again. He couldn't remember ever detesting himself more, not even during his unfortunate accident which had ruined his career as an Auror. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Circe, he was turning into old Auror Phelps, and he knew it. Phelps was Optimus's trainer in his early days of graduate-level apprenticeship in the AMA, and he'd been a right old bastard. He loved reducing his students to diminuitive heights, destroying their confidence not for any legitimate training purpose, but simply because he took pleasure in doing so. He saw his apprentices as hopeless sycophants who'd never be able to get the job done properly, and therefore, as a threat to the security of the nation and to the Agency.
It was Phelps who'd helped mold Optimus into the man he was today, and Optimus was many things as a result of Phelps' training, but he was never cruel.
Until right now.
Myst had returned with another flash of brilliant green light. In truth, Optimus had been expecting Brockton back first, but knowing Brockton, he was probably taking his assignment to new heights. Optimus had specially warded the off-woods training areas for the senior students to alert him if anything went badly, but he had faith in his students. They were strong.
Caden was standing there, looking like a cat who'd caught the canary. Optimus had to concede that Myst was one of his strongest and most promising students, but there was something in his nature that he didn't like. Myst was a ruthless tactician, a clever duelist, and an exemplary mage, but there was a darkness in him Optimus recognized in his psychology classes, both learned and taught. There was a manipulative factor in Myst that he'd seen in criminals he'd captured years before.
Myst would either make an excellent Dark Arts Defense graduate with promises of the Dark Arts Defense League ahead of him, or he would fall susceptible to the allure of the Dark and Forbidden Arts and become their prey.
Myst had his flaws, as well, petty things really. Supreme confidence and arrogance that reminded Optimus of Phelps, and irked him to no ends, but he had to admit that the boy was a very, very good student, and a rare gem among rhinestones.
However, his irritation got the best of him, and the look on Myst's face unwound him.
"Ah, back from your excursion I see, Mister Myst," Optimus said pleasantly, approaching him. "Have you completed the task I've set for you?"
"I have, sir," was Myst's reply.
"Do you know why I gave you and the other seniors a special task away from the rest of us?"
"We're stronger, sir. You wanted to push us further."
"Really." Optimus paused for a moment and glanced around the wood. The students had paused their drills again to watch the ensuing conversation with bated breath. The Dark Arts Master turned his eyes upon his young protege.
"Do you consider yourself an accomplished duelist, Mister Myst?" Optimus inquired, his anger rising although his voice was still placid. "Do you believe that your skills are better than perhaps Mister Hammond's? Townsend's?"
There was a long pause before Myst responded.
"Bluntly? Yes." Optimus saw, out of the corner of his eye, Hammond and Townsend tensing, but he paid them no mind. "I'm sure they could become serious competitors, but there is one difference between us, one skill I have that they lack. They let their personal feelings interfere. They only want 'so much' power. They haven't made the sacrifices necessary to beat me. They aren't as driven, sir."
Optimus was actually smirking at the end of the statement, and Myst took it as a good sign, clearly. "An astute observation, Myst! Astute indeed. One final question for you, if you please."
Myst's chin raised expectantly.
"Do you believe that your skills are better than mine?"
The silence in the wood pounded against Optimus's ears, and Optimus struck out like a snake.
He sent a Diffindo in Myst's direction and struck, slicing Myst's wand arm from shoulder to elbow, cutting through his clothing. Myst fell to the ground with the force of the spell, and just as Optimus threw a Cruciatus in his direction, Myst fought back with a Stupefy.
In his earlier days, Optimus would've simply dodged the spell by leaping out of its way, but Optimus was no longer the man that he was, so with a snap, he disapparated out of sight and appeared behind Myst, casting a silent Petrificus Totalus with an errant wave of his hand.
With Myst immobile, Optimus swept over him, grabbing the lapels of his uniform-code shirt, hoisted him into the air, and slammed his back against at tree just as the spell wore off. He watched as Myst's head hit the trunk with a resounding thud.
"Over-confidence," Optimus snarled, "is just as much a hindrance in one's abilities as incompetence and any other interferences you so wisely deem as faults, Myst. You think so highly of yourself, and one day your arrogance is going to get you killed."
Myst was struggling out of Optimus's grip, but the teacher only pushed him harder and higher against the trunk of the tree and into the air. "I know how you feel about the Dark Arts," Optimus growled so that only they two could hear. "You hold them in higher esteem than the practice of Defense. Consider the fact that I could have you put in prison and have you tortured without due process of law simply because I, an Auror, noticed something off about you. I could have your life as you know it end with a snap of my fingers, Myst. You tread upon the tail of the tiger, between good and evil. You're playing with fire, little boy, and I don't think you fully comprehend the fact that every move you make in my class brings you closer and closer to damnation."
Optimus watched Myst's face a moment more before he let the boy slump to the ground. "Since Myst thinks of himself so highly," Optimus said, his voice carrying across the training area, "I will lay him a challenge here and now, with the rest of you as witnesses. You, Myst, may challenge me at any time to a proper wizard's duel, no holds barred, including Unforgiveable Curses." A tangible shudder went through the forest. "If Myst defeats me, he will have earned my respect and the respect of his peers. Until then, I will never consider him a man. It's time for you to grow up, Myst."
Optimus turned away from the boy, disgust with him, with Audric Celeres, with the vampires, and with himself flowing through his veins along with the blood. The class, who had remained silent and still, stared at him as though he were a radioactive bomb.
"Continue!" He snapped, and soon, the sound of pops and cracks filled the training area again. Optimus sighed, and rubbed his temples.
Damn Audric Celeres. Damn him to Hell.
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Maurelle Drow
New Student
Potiuntur
Sophomore
member is offline
Joined: Oct 2007
Posts: 15
| | Re: Drills [For All Dark Arts Defense Students]
« Reply #5 on Oct 7, 2007, 2:25pm » | |
She moved quickly, mind on the fact that it was a never ending game of demented hopscotch involving apparation. Frankly, the idea behind aparation was to sneak up on someone. How the hell could you do that when it was accompanied with a pop? But she could follow orders, and it wasn’t as if the training exercise was that hard. Point a to point b. So what if point a and b kept moving. It just kept things interesting.
She watched one of the older students disappear in a green flash and winced as the light was burned into eyes the color of bottled quicksilver making little mini appearances as she blinked. But she ignored it. In a real fight, the light from the spells would be damn near blinding. She ignored the teacher’s rant on how one couldn’t waste time. What were the others doing in this class if they didn’t know that? Expecting for their attackers to wait their turn? She snorted, dancing away from another student, her heels making a slight crunching noise, he had managed to pick the same target space, as her before they were a little to close. The idea of being splinched with someone she did not know very well left a bad taste in her mouth. She took her personal space very seriously.
She began again, weaving her way through the various shaped landing points, as the teacher snapped for them to continue. She listened with half an ear as the professor began chewing out one of the other students about his accuracy issues. If the yell had been any indication his surname was Hammond. She was largely unconcerned until she heard him utter that he was tired. Not even an hour into the dance and he was tired? Well, she knew that the only reason she was not at the moment had to do with the fact that she trained everyday at the facilities offered at her compound. Her mother liked to ‘surprise’ her to make sure that she was doing as was expected. This was not limited to physical training and tests, but she could always wish.
At the repetition of his foolish statement by the professor, she felt slightly sorry for him. Or rather sorry that he would have to deal with the professor’s angry voice. Her ears perked at the mention of some kind of festival, and she wondered if that would be a good excuse to wear a yukata, or if it would just come off as out of place, only to be snapped back into reality by the teacher. As he began making the rounds, she began to understand. The Hunt. Everyone was so bloody on edge about it. Not that she wasn’t. She knew that vampires could be more dangerous than almost any other dark creature. Largely, because of the fact that, like any predator, they had an innate understanding of their prey.
She returned to the many hoops, mind unsettled. There was no way she would fall into the category of prey. She didn’t want that of predator either. Neutral, she knew was by far the safest. Neutral meant that you could play cat with everyone and not fear the burn of one side.
She watched as the teacher began to go off on one of her classmates. His name was Hall if her hearing served her right. It was hard to make out with all the pop nonsense. A flash of green to her left told her that one of the older students had returned from his trip. Her nose wrinkled as she caught a whiff of cave when she apparated to a ring next to him. She stopped with the class to watch as the teacher began questioning the other. Mayhap she could learn something interesting about the fellow. He was quite the looker.
"Ah, back from your excursion I see, Mister Myst," she heard the teacher say. A name. She had a name to go with the arrogantly smirking face. The tone said that this exchange would be entertaining. The more she knew about those around her the faster she could begin to play. This Myst seemed to be someone worth playing with, and it had been far too long since she had found someone who would/could play. Her mind wandered back to the conversation at hand, amused at the flippant, arrogant answers. Hubris, she knew could be deadly. It tended to weave it’s own traps, though, making it hard to play with at times. You didn’t want to feed it too much, or it might just come after the hand that fed it in the first place. At his mention of feelings she smiled slightly. What he said was basically true, but one should never throw feelings out altogether. They were, afterall, what made an animal backed into a corner fight so viciously.
She watched the manhandling, it could hardly be classified as a fight, head cocked to one side, her black bangs, the only part of her black and red streaked hair that could touch her face, swishing to one side. It concerned her little. Mostly she was interested in the tree. Just what had been said? Something nasty? Some secret that only the two of them knew? The wheels in her head began moving at a speed that most would think unhealthy. Her eyes widened at the challenge the professor shouted. Was he really that desperate to hurt someone? There would be no way Myst would back down from that. Pride would demand he meet it. She just really hoped she would be there to see it. There was nothing like watching a fight between two people who knew what they were doing.
Shaking her head and the images of the two going for each other's throats, she returned back inward. The course was largely just automatic motions anyway. All she really had to worry about was finding someone as sharp as she was in the class. A few good candidates she already had lined up. A couple she even had surnames for. At least this school was not full of airheads with nothing better to do than learn charms to make sure that their clothes stayed pristine.
Not that she was one who didn't care about her appearance. Her smartly pressed black top, and skirt atested to the fact that she at least took basic pride in her appearance. The very idea of being somewhat sloppy made her ill to her stomach.
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Peter Brockton
New Student
Faciunt
Senior
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![[avatar]](http://i131.photobucket.com/albums/p313/celerum/Students/Peter2.jpg)
- it's - all - a - game -
Joined: Feb 2007
Gender: Male
Posts: 16
| | Re: Drills [For All Dark Arts Defense Students]
« Reply #6 on Oct 8, 2007, 1:56am » | |
In the same green flames that had transported him Peter reappeared. He looked down at his feet only to discover they no longer were there.
“Really? Those were Italian leather.”
Mud, muck, and sludge covered his boots and the bottom of his pants up to his knees. He now appeared to be part of the clearing. Why did he have to be sent to the swamp? His tasked hadn’t been too challenging. There was a gaggle of hobgoblins that had gathered to watch. But they become for a cheering section then another obstacle. Once he had located an uprising of natural gas, the game was won. A simple Lumos had ingnited a burst of flame across the quagmire and since the creature Optimus had give him to tackle was 85% quagmire it was reduced to it’s remaining 15% which looked like nothing more then a plucked monkey with orange eyes. Like he had said, nothing too challenging but the navigating through the murk! It had not been enjoyable.
A simple spell cleaned his apparel but for the senior, the boots would never be the same. He looked up, shaking brilliant red hair form his face to locate his teacher and place a complaint. Evil would not voluntarily ruin good leather like that.
When he had found Optimus, it was rather difficult seeing as all the other students had stopped, forming a sold mass, the teacher seemed to be already dealing with a complaint. Caden was pinned to a tree. Optimus was yelling, his deep, tenor voice bouncing off trees so simultaneously he spoke directly to everyone. But Peter could not hear Caden’s replies and those of course would be the most interesting parts of the conversations.
With ease and eloquence, Peter plotted a course through the throng of students. A course that would take him by every single female in the Auror Program. Really, was there anything better then an assertive woman? Not in Peter’s book. Bumps, nudges, and caresses were easy to pardon with his wide smiles and earnest words. Again, another thing that came to Peter in utter simplicity.
He reached the front of the group and could literally count the veins protruding from Caden’s face and next. And Peter would be willing to admit that Optimus looked terrifying, himself. A true Oberon in anger. His professor would be a great challenge and he was sorry had missed the earlier performance.
Caden’s eyes flicked to Peter’s mismatched pair and the redhead tossed him a cocky smile. The other man was a friend but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the other’s misery. When Caden’s eyes only flashed with the hunger of a wolf, Peter’s signature laugh escaped him, “Ha ha ha.”
Optimus turned about face and Peter thought for a second the older man had heard him scoff at Caden but he only barked a command of “Continue!” It was immediately followed so the clearing once again was filled with the sounds of muggle popcorn bursting in a metal pot.
“Sir,” Peter said as Optimus passed. He got a long, curious looked and then a nod before his teacher went back to circling the obstacle course.
Peter sauntered up to Caden who was just coming off his impromptu crucifix, “More and more I am forced to equate you with the suicide king. You are nothing but a martyr for the unimportant things.”
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- to - die - will - be - an - awfully - big - adventure - |
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KT Takahashi
Part-time Student
Potiuntur
Sophomore
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![[yim]](http://s4.images.proboards.com/yim.gif) ![[msn]](http://s4.images.proboards.com/msn.gif) ![[aim]](http://s4.images.proboards.com/aim.gif)
Joined: Apr 2007
Gender: Female 
Posts: 65
| | Re: Drills [For All Dark Arts Defense Students]
« Reply #7 on Oct 8, 2007, 9:28am » | |
Kyouhen popped fluidly in and out of each of the shapes that Professor Optimus has carved into the dirt below, her speed and precision rivaling that of the red-headed senior. She remained silent, not daring to step a millimeter out of line or utter a single syllable. Who in the damn right mind would want to incur the wrath of one Obisidio Optimus? Some would say Caden, just because of the aura around him. KT’s hazel eyes spotted the Pointur student, they locking for a brief second with his. That oh-so-frustrating smirk that was so natural to him played upon the face of the shaven-head student, Kyouhen trying to break it, but being found unable to. Finally, she was able to and she did so as inconspicuously as she could. If you looked at her, she had the neat appearance of how all the students should; mentally was a different ball game. Since that fateful night in the shad area known as Oxbay, the dirty blond has been drinking more and more.
This was a bad thing on only a scarce amount of levels.
KT heard Professor Optimus yelling at the Iuvant student named Pearson about hours spent at the gym; she continued apparating, purposely ignoring the Professor’s seething remarks toward Eric. She had to concentrate on this; it was the one thing keeping her from keeling over. She kept her eyes barely open, she persisting at her accuracy level. She had done this when she was younger; not to say that this wasn’t difficult or anything, it was. You try having the Obisidio Optimus breathing and fuming in your presence
over a single millimeter of an error. It is not a pretty sight.
Speaking of hours at the gym…. the blond thought. Her eyes widened mentally as she realized her thought. Hours. Gym. Shit! KT’s mind raced as it tried to calculate the exact amount of time she had spent there. She had put in a couple hours before breakfast this morning. Two. For the past week she had gone during the break time in-between classes, which totaled ten hours. Depending on the level of homework, she headed to the gym after completing the load and her dinner meal. A couple of days she wasn’t able to get into the gym until around eight due to essays in Potions and another class; She took longer with essays because she had to make it perfect. The other three days she got in at six exactly and left at ten; and yes, that does mean she stayed in the gym till midnight on those two days she went in at eight. Consistency was key to her, as because she was regaining her more athletic frame back due to the heavy hours spent in the gym. It made her happy. For once. She was tired as hell, but the satisfaction was well worth it.
“Takahashi! And just how many hours have you put in this week? Please inform me that you got more hours than Mr. Pearson did here.” Optimus barked, KT freezing in place before she turned to face the Professor. “Thirty-two hours Sir.” She replied quickly, seeing the look upon his face. “And just how did you do that Miss Takahashi?” Optimus asked, with an air of skepticism about him. “Two hours this morning before breakfast. Two hours in-between classes with this week, that totals ten, and four hours each day after meals. Twenty hours. With a total of thirty-two hours Professor.”
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Professor Optimus
Celerum Staff
Dark Arts Defense
member is offline
Dark Arts Wizard
Joined: Apr 2007
Gender: Male
Posts: 5
Location: Mirage Island
| | Re: Drills [For All Dark Arts Defense Students]
« Reply #8 on Oct 8, 2007, 1:36pm » | |
After his slightly inappropriate man-handling of Myst, which did absolutely nothing for his mood, Optimus turned his eyes away from his more promising Auror majors. Brockton returned, his face thankfully blank, and Optimus found nothing to critique him in.
Brockton completed his task without hassle, and Optimus had not been expecting any problem with the senior. He was a peculiar oddity, Brockton...there was something about his demeanor that wasn't as much suspicious as unsettling. The Defense professor made a mental note to examine him in depth later. Their duel at the end of the term would prove most interesting indeed.
Optimus turned his steel eyes upon one of his newest students, a Miss Drow. Diana had given him some background a staff meeting a few days ago. Drow had an excellent background and she apparently wanted to incoporate some of her culture's older fighting traditions with the newer techniques of today. She had potential, true enough, but Optimus knew very well that in his business, one couldn't build a career on a world of potential. She had to get the job done.
"Fair precision, Drow, but quicker!" Optimus barked, his anger with Myst still not quelled. "Your speed should be equal to your accuracy! Present to me that famed Japanese agility if you hope to advance far in your field."
Drow was one of the few female students in the class that truly impressed him. Optimus was not sexist by any means--after all, women like Professor Keyes had gotten far in the field, and she was positively lethal--but Optimus found the majority of his female students simpering and not willing to go the distance required in his school. It seemed to him that secondary schools were lax in their training of the Dark Arts. Too lax for him, anyway, and while it was a commonplace to have more wizards than witches hitting targets and hunting criminals, it didn't stop the sheer number of those that had tried his class and Optimus himself, and had failed miserably.
Drow was promising. She was aloof like Myst, but held significantly less arrogance about it.
There was only a handful of female students in his class, and Optimus's eyes turned to Takahashi. She was snapping in and out of each marker with precision and a decent level of speed.
“Takahashi!" he snapped suddenly. "And just how many hours have you put in this week? Please inform me that you got more hours than Mr. Pearson did here.”
She stopped almost immediately. "Thirty-two hours, sir.”
Optimus's eyebrows crept into his hairline. “And just how did you do that Miss Takahashi?”
"Two hours this morning before breakfast. Two hours in-between classes with this week, that totals ten, and four hours each day after meals. Twenty hours. With a total of thirty-two hours, Professor.”
"Over-reaching," Optimus said decidedly. The students had stopped apparating to watch the exchange once more. "Given your courseload--because I am aware of exactly how many classes you tried to take last term, Miss Takahashi--and midterm exams this month, it's amazing that you found time enough to study, let alone visit the gym for thirty-two hours this week. This suggests," Optimus said, approaching her with a pensieve look on his haggard face, "that you have completed the work for your other classes in due time and had found it droll, dull, and fairly simple, is that correct?"
Optimus did not wait for an answer, nor did he expect one. Any fool could see that the statement was purely rhetorical. "Now," he continued, standing in front of her, "this suggests that your work was so simple, in fact, that you somehow found enough time to complete a whopping thirty-two gym hours for my class, in addition to all of the homework I've been assigning. I am gathering from the inferences I've made this conclusion, Miss Takahashi." Optimus paused. "You are finding both my classwork and that of my colleagues inadequate enough to work yourself to death in the gymnasium, and you obviously still had time enough to get a good night's rest, for your performance during this drill has been so exemplary."
Optimus smiled cruelly at her before throwing an errant hand in the direction that Myst was standing. "Now that Narcissus here has relinquished his crown, I see we have an heir to the arrogance throne. Perhaps you consider your skills so fantastic that you feel ready to move ahead. Perhaps my little drill isn't enough for you. Brockton!"
Optimus waited until the ginger student was at his side. "Peter Brockton is one of my best students, Takahashi. Do you believe you're ready to duel him?"
There was a moment of silence, and Optimus's smirk grew. "No, Takahashi, I thought not. I believe the minimum of gym hours that I set for a week is twenty, and the maximum is no more than thirty, if you'd taken time to pay attention in my class--a class you obviously have to deign to attend everyday. Thirty-two hours at a gym training in a week is not only over-reaching, it is dangerous to your health and entirely too foolhardy for anyone who ever wishes to call themselves a Dark Arts scholar!"
Optimus's voice resounded in the wood. "For someone who assured me that they were ambitious enough to continue on in my field, you are showing me that perhaps your common sense isn't quite the standard for it. Perhaps if you possessed more of it, you wouldn't have found yourself in trouble in Oxbay weeks ago. And yes," Optimus said, looking down his nose at the girl, "I do know about that. Not very wise at all, was it?"
Optimus turned away, not wanting to look at the girl any longer. "Being ambitious means living deeply and sucking out all of the marrow of life without choking on the bone, Miss Takahashi, and until you can prove to me you're ready for the task that Audric Celeres has set me and the rest of us, you--along with Myst over there--will not be participating in it. Your inadequacies could get us all killed, after all. Now do it again!" Optimus snapped, and with a clap of his hands, the sounds of cracks and pops filled the air again.
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Dodger Hammond
New Student
Faciunt
Sophomore
member is offline
No Day But Today
Joined: Jan 2007
Gender: Male
Posts: 41
Location: Bohemia
| | Re: Drills [For All Dark Arts Defense Students]
« Reply #9 on Oct 10, 2007, 2:05am » | |
The moment that Professor Optimus's smirk at Caden turned sour and he slammed that bastard into the unforgiving trunk of a tree, Dodger felt he would have gladly fell to his knees and kissed the hems of the robes of the entire American Aurory in thanks for their associate's man-handling of the boy Dodger hated most in this world.
It was too thrilling. Engagement to the woman he loved aside, it was the single greatest moment of Dodger's life to watch Optimus verbally belittle Caden and reduce him into nothing more than a boneless pile of pure degradation. For someone to finally see Caden for what he was (other than Dodger, Row, Eric, and Sean) and then to give it to him twice as hard as Caden gave made Dodger's life.
"If I ever get to Heaven," Sean was saying, eyes transfixed on the spectacle before him, "this is the vision that'll be awaiting me."
Dodger was half-expecting a celestial choir of angels to come down and herald in Caden's humiliation to the delight of the quartet of boys who detested him.
Unfortunately, it was a pleasure that wasn't borne for long, because the eyes and jaws of Optimus turned upon the rest of his children and the apparating and disapparating continued.
"Optimus really isn't such a bad guy when his acid is directed at someone more worthy of it," Dodger chuckled, giving Rowland a high-five from a circle directly parallel before vanishing again.
Time passed in the blurs of Dodger's classmates popping in and out of time and space. He was glad for his experience, little though it may be. The first several times he'd apparated, he'd gotten migraines from the compression of his body cells, but they were things of the past.
Dodger snorted, bobbing past the new girl whom Optimus was calling out to. She'd arrived a bit late, but Optimus had obviously reigned in his irritation at the fact that she was decent at apparation for a freshman student. Very decent, in fact.
Peter Brockton, whom Dodger would accredit the title of 'Best Student Ever' was popping in and out quicker than the rest of them, with a sort of graceful agility that ballerinas would die for. He was odd, that Peter. Dodger reckoned he'd only spoken with the boy once or twice, but he gave off an air of something otherworldly.
"Have you seen Brockton?" Sean asked, disappearing with a pop as Rowland reappeared next to him.
"That dude's psycho, obviously," Dodger said ever-so-eloquently, throwing an arm in Brockton's general direction, which was difficult to do, given that he was zipping in and out, disappearing and reappearing in less than the tick-tock of a clock.
Dodger's eyes left Brockton, however, when Optimus decided to prey upon a young girl of Asian descent to his starboard side.
He was too far away to hear too much of what was going on, but the words spread through the chain of students like a spider-web's many strands.
"Thirty-two?" Eric inquired, an incredulous look on his chiseled face.
"She's suicidal," Dodger replied, wearing a frown. "That's dangerous."
"When did she have time to effing sleep?" Sean said from Dodger's right.
"She could've lied to him, knowing the mood Optimus is in," Row muttered. "And they call us stupid in the South..."
"Being smarter than an alligator-wrestling swamp-water billiard isn't a difficult feat, Row," Dodger pointed out, and he received a small Stinging Hex for his trouble.
And of course, the boys were right. KT got a verbal lashing like Dodger had never seen before. There had to have been something wrong with Optimus. Sure, the man wasn't exactly Mister Fun-time Auror, but his verbiage was never this acerbic.
And then, Dodger heard it.
"Being ambitious means living deeply and sucking out all of the marrow of life without choking on the bone, Miss Takahashi, and until you can prove to me you're ready for the task that Audric Celeres has set me and the rest of us, you--along with Myst over there--will not be participating in it. Your inadequacies could get us all killed, after all. Now do it again!"
Dodger had to momentarily push aside the little dig at Caden being left out even though Sean was practically speaking in tongues with joy about what Optimus had said about the Potiuntur.
The general assembly stepped to their task again, but Dodger stood still. He was looking at Rowland, who was exchanging glances with Eric. Dodger knew his face was a proverbial question mark.
"Stop the party, everybody go home," Sean said, looking around. "What task?"
And, coincidentally, the one time Dodger wanted Optimus to be keeping his hawk eye on them, he was swooping over a couple of Faciunt girls who had been giggling at KT's bashing.
"This is more than a practical lesson. We're running drills like a boot camp--"
"What's boot camp?" Sean interrupted.
"Hush," Rowland snapped.
"--and with all this talk about vampires and the Hunt going on, it makes sense for him to be firming us up in case of an attack, but this rigorous of training...it's like we're being conditioned for battle--"
"We're going to battle the vampires?" Sean inquired.
"Shut up." Rowland glared at Sean, allowing Dodger to continue his statement.
"--and he said the Headmaster was involved," Dodger finished. "He's training us for some kind of duty that he doesn't trust Caden or KT to assist in."
There was a silence, and everyone looked at Sean, waiting for another interruption, but none came. The boy's face was as pale as it could get, him being dark-skinned.
"Jesus," Rowland said, shaking his head. "If they put him on the front lines, we're all doomed."
"Well, one of us is going to have to ask Optimus. We have a right to know," Eric said.
Dodger looked at him. "After only four bloody gym hours, you don't get to say a word. Optimus'll eat you alive." The Boston native looked at the Floridian expectantly. "One of us, then."
"You've pissed him off the least, Row," Dodger said logically after a long moment of silence. "You get to be the sacrificial lamb."
"I hate you all." Row's voice was dull.
"May I ask what you four are doing?" A dementor had nothing on the chill Optimus gave students when he snuck up on them, and Dodger felt his heart drop into his shoes. The man had murder in his eyes.
Dodger glanced at Rowland, and he, Eric, and Sean subtly stepped back only a few inches, each within their hoops and squares. Dodger willed Rowland to have the bravery to open his mouth and speak to Optimus in all his rage, because he certainly wasn't courageous enough.
Or suicidal enough, depending on which end of the broomstick you were on, Dodger said, wincing at the uncomfortable silence. It was now or never.
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VIVA LA VIE BOHEME |
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